Get Away From Me
by FisherofMen
Summary: Takes place after S7E17 Born Again Identity. After Cas transferred the chaos of the hallucinations to himself, Sam was supposed to stop seeing Lucifer around every corner... So why isn't he?


**A/N: So this is my first Supernatural fanfic and I haven't exercised my writing muscle in a while. If you see any typos, please tell me! **

**Apologies for the choppy writing and I would LOVE to see some critiques if you have them. As this story progressing, I will gladly consider plot suggestions.**

**So anyway, I was horrified to see there was no Hillucifer community! D: I adore these fics and wish there were more! **

**I'm more of a Sammy fan myself, but I will try to write both of them in plenty and accurately. Again, critiques are welcome.**

**So before I get ahead of myself, enjoy! :)**

Chapter 1: Sleep

The low rumbling of the Impala always managed to bring comfort to Sam. The melody of its soft humming like a lullaby. But tonight, as tired as he was, he wouldn't fall asleep. Even after days without sleep, what if he woke up to find it had all been a dream. And that Lucifer was still there, yelling the lyrics to Stairway to Heaven right in his ear.

Sam stole a glance in Dean's direction who was staring at the road ahead, his eyes like stone and his brows furrowed. He must've noticed the motion cause he turned his head slightly and their eyes met for a second.

"How you doin'?" he mumbled, turning back to the road.

"How do you think?" Sam shrugged and continued watching the road pass beneath the tires.

"Yeah, well, you should get some sleep. Some actual sleep. I'll wake you when I find a hotel."

Sam hesitated, gaze flickering from out the window to his lap. With a sigh, he shifted and leaned his head on cool glass. He could feel Dean's eyes on him in his last moments of consciousness.

_A warehouse. Dust particles floated in the rays of the setting sun, floating gracefully in every direction. The orange and yellow clouds could be seen through a window to his left, quickly changing color as the sun disappeared below the horizon in a matter of seconds. Sam tilted his head curiously and approached the opening. _

_The millions of flickering lights in the sky seemed to blink down at him. It brought him an unexplained comfort and he almost swore a few of them shifted from their set locations in the sky._

_"Ahem," a voice echoed in his ears. He flinched. Suddenly he felt fully aware of everything... this was a dream. He hesitantly turned around, ready to tell Satan to beat it. A frown crept onto his face when he found himself no longer in a warehouse, but at Bobby's... in the panic room..._

_He turned to leave when something was shoved against his lips and a luke-warm liquid trailed down his throat. Unnaturally strong hands held his head in place as he struggled to pull free. He gagged and clawed at the hands, squeezing his eyes shut. _

_The hands pulled back quickly and left Sam coughing up what he could, which wasn't much. He wiped his mouth and tried not to panic when the smell of gasoline filled his nostrils._

_"What the-" But before he could finish, a lighter was shoved at his face and his mouth was forced open. He felt the heat on the roof of his mouth right before it spread down his throat and throughout his torso. He screamed, falling on his knees and clutching at the bed he caught himself on. His knuckles whitened and black splotches danced in his vision, pulsing with each heartbeat that he wished wasn't there anymore._

_He squeezed his eyes shut and unwilling tears slipped passed his eyelashes._

_The pain engulfed him, spreading through his veins; spreading through his bones. He willed himself not to break, but the constant screaming that he realized was his said otherwise._

_"Wakey, wakey, Sammy," cooed a familiar voice. Sam shook his head, biting back his cries if only for a moment. Despite the burning fury on the inside, a sudden icey chill spread on the surface of his skin. Hot and cold. Burning ice. Hands were on his shoulders, shaking him._

_"Wake up!"_

"Wake up!" A deep voice. "Come on, Sammy, wake up!"

Sam jolted awake in his seat and forced his eyelids open. He blinked the flames away and finally met gazes with his brother, the deep green eyes filling with relief. He swallowed and fought back the urge to gag when bubbling blisters and rough flesh rubbed together in his esophagus.

_Not real. It's not real. _

"Sam?"

He realized his eyes were closed again and he let out a shaky breath.

"You okay?"

Sam nodded and cracked his eyes open. "Yeah, I just..." How are you supposed to describe that? He barely met Dean's eyes before he realized the Impala was on the side of the road, the passenger door open and Dean hunched over next to it. "Let's just get to the hotel, alright?"

"We are at the hotel," he said quickly, eyes still searching Sam's.

"Oh..."

Awkward silence fell like a blanket until Dean stepped back and opened the back door to grab their duffles. Sam reached for his but Dean cut him off.

"I got it."

Sam sighed, but did nothing more than follow his brother inside their room.

The bags were tossed aside on a chair and Dean walked to the desk, pressing his palms on the glossy surface and letting his head hang low. Sam knew this stance. It was 'I'm-about-to-give-you-a-talkin' to' stance.

Dean took a breath and straightened, hesitating before turning around. He cleared his throat awkwardly and lifted his gaze to his little brother.

"You sure you're okay?" Sam always had trouble holding this stare. The calculating, evaluating, searching-for-answers stare. He nodded and swallowed.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just... tired." He moved over to the bed and started pulling his shoes off.

"Well, I get that, but... What was that back there?" Dean walked to his own bed and plopped down onto its hard mattress.

"What was what?" Sam asked without looking up.

"You were holding the seat so tight I thought your fingers would snap," he responded critically. "That, and almost every muscle in your body was tense like you were seizing or something."

Sam sighed and rested his elbows on his knees. "It was just-"

"I know what it was Sam... I just... I just thought that since this crap was over, it would stop."

"Dean, this isn't the first time I've had a nightmare without memories cracking my skull open." Sam tried to meet Dean's eyes, but they were glued to the floor.

"I know, but not like that." He finally looked up. Sam nodded, though it was barely noticeable, and pulled his legs onto the bed. The blankets were damp and smelt sour, but as long as it meant rest, Sam was comfortable.

"I'm sure it's nothing, Dean. Can I just go to sleep?" _Just stop asking about it..._

After no response, he leaned onto his elbow and winced as his tender ribs protested.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, fine." He flipped off the light-switch and the sounds of fabric against fabric filled the darkness until all went still.

Sam shivered as the burning sensation flickered in his mind. He knew it was just a dream, but the pain felt real. The fire in his veins, the burning in his throat... As much as the memory haunted him, it made no difference to his body. Almost a week without sleep was straining his brain and made it almost impossible to keep his eyes open.

Before he could stop himself, darkness fell over him in a sheet and he drifted off into a restless slumber.


End file.
